


Start Over

by TheBreakfastGenie



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBreakfastGenie/pseuds/TheBreakfastGenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Donna Moss leaves the Bartlet for America campaign, and how she comes back. Or, how she finds herself and how she starts over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start Over

**Author's Note:**

> Six months ago, I started writing this little fic that I will always think of as simply "the Donna Moss fic." I thought it would be short and I thought I'd finish writing it in a couple of days. Boy was I wrong! Finally, finally, finally done, it holds the dubious honors of being my longest complete West Wing fic to date and of being the first West Wing fic I'm posting on this site. 
> 
> Because this is pre-series, there aren't any romantic pairings, except briefly Donna/"Dr. Freeride," but I think it will make Josh/Donna shippers happy. I think of it as pre-romantic Josh/Donna. 
> 
> I want to give a big thanks to everyone who listened to my rants and offered encouragement while I was writing. You know who you are.

New Hampshire had been a whim, South Carolina had been a dream. Illinois had been… Illinois. But she had high hopes for California. Bartlet was the frontrunner, now, and everyone seemed to have even more energy than they had before. Plus there were other benefits. 

For one thing, the office was much nicer than any of the previous ones had been. For the first time, Donna thought she might actually have enough space to organize Josh’s office before his work inevitably expanded to fill the space provided. And there were more phone lines, which the senior campaign staff didn’t even seem to notice, but it made all the difference to someone whose job was basically to answer the phone all day. It made sense that the new offices were bigger, cleaner, and all around better, because the campaign had a lot more money now. 

There was something about Wiley’s money that Donna didn’t fully understand, but she made a mental note to ask Josh about it later. _Josh_. That was the other thing. Josh was looking better, too.   

She knew it wasn’t her job to worry about him, except it was, kind of, and since she’d been the one to deliver the bad news she couldn’t help feeling a little responsible for his well-being. One minute he’d been begging her to dance with him, the next he’d been stony-faced and she’d been on the phone with an incredibly annoying Delta rep explaining in no uncertain terms that her boss was in Chicago and he _was_ going to be on a flight to Hatford, Boston, or New York by that night. Then he was gone, and when he came back to meet them in California he was off, somehow. 

She never could have explained it and no one else seemed to notice, so she never said anything, she just quietly kept an eye on him until he started to go back to normal, until his smiles seemed a little more real again. She was his assistant, after all. There were more ways to assist than just answering the telephone. 

At the moment there weren’t, however, because the telephone had started ringing. Her phone-answering skills had gotten her this job, along with luck, compassion, and a boldness she’d been unable to either understand or replicate, not for lack of trying. 

“Bartlet for America, Josh Lyman’s office.” 

 “Donna?” 

 She went still, every muscle in her body immediately tense. 

 “It’s… well, it’s me.”  

She still didn’t answer. She was torn between hanging up immediately and an angry lecture, but some spark of compassion within her prevented the first and she couldn’t find the words for the second. 

“Donna? Are you there?” 

“How did you get this number?”

It wasn’t as final as hanging up and it was too short to constitute a lecture, but she’d said it icily enough that she figured it made enough of the same point. 

“What?” he asked. He sounded clearly taken aback, but he managed to compose himself pretty quickly. She wondered if they taught that in med school. “Oh! Um, well, I got it from your…”

“…My mom,” she finished for him. It figured. 

She’d given her parents the office number to reach her during the day, along with explicit instructions that it was for emergencies only. 

Of course, Donna’s mother tended to believe that “relationship troubles” constituted an emergency, and hadn’t yet seemed to grasp that there could be no troubles in a relationship that no longer existed. 

She had her daughter’s best interests at heart, really, but she wasn’t always clear on what those best interests were. 

“What do you want?” she asked, as if there was any answer he could give that she would possibly be willing to help him with.  

Well, that wasn’t quite true. She’d be perfectly happy to walk him through how to change his registration to democratic. 

“I just… I just want to talk. God it feels good to hear your voice.” 

“I’m at _work_.”

“I just want to _talk_ ,” he repeated, as if she hadn’t heard him the first time. 

“I. Am. Working.” She drew out every word, partly out of impatience and partly just to antagonize him, but he didn’t take the bait. What was she supposed to do with that? 

“Right, right, sorry. I…I just…” 

_You forgot_ , she thought angrily. _You forgot that I have a job, not to mention friends and family and a life, basically, that doesn’t revolve around_ you. 

“I _miss_ you.”  

He started to cry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard him cry. 

“Look, please just… just calm down, okay? It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. 

She glanced around nervously, wondering if any of her coworkers were close enough to hear her half of the conversation. 

She wound the telephone cord around her fingers. He was still crying. 

“I really can’t let you… there are a lot of people who need to call Josh, I can’t be tying up this phone line,” Donna said firmly.  

He sniffed loudly, but the crying seemed to stop, or at least slow down.  

“Who’s Josh?” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“My boss, remember? ‘Bartlet for America, Josh Lyman’s office.’”  

“I thought you worked for Bartlet.” 

“I do. Josh is senior campaign staff, I’m his assistant. And he needs me more than ever to be _doing my job_ ,” she stressed that part, “because Bartlet is the frontrunner now and everyone has so much more work to do, they’re all excited of course, _we’re_ all excited, but…”

“Wow, you’re working for the democratic frontrunner. That’s unexpected, huh?” 

“I’ve been a registered democrat since I was eighteen,” she said carefully. 

That was an old fight between them, their political difference, or as he put her, her stubborn insistence on voting democratic. 

“No, I know, I mean, the frontrunner. That’s… that’s _big_.” 

Big? What was that supposed to mean? Oh, god, how long had she been talking to him? 

“Look, I really, really have to go. But, I guess, if you want to talk… your home number’s still the same, right?”  

“Yeah.” 

He sounded hopeful. Damn him. 

“I’ll… I’ll call you. Okay? I’ll call you tonight, from my hotel.”  

“Okay.” 

He seemed, for the moment, mollified. 

“It might be late. I don’t know when we’ll get done tonight.” 

It was only fair to warn him.  

“That’s okay.” 

“Okay… okay. I’ll talk to you later. Okay?” 

“Okay. I love you!” 

The last part was rushed and desperate and so unexpected that she dropped the phone onto the cradle, Oh, well, she was calling him back later anyway. 

Should she be calling him back later? She had to now, didn’t she? She’d already said she would. 

“Donnatella Moss! Just the person I was looking for!” 

Well, that was one way to interrupt introspection. 

“Hello, Josh.” 

Her boss came bounding up to her, happier than she’d seen since the last time they won a primary. His face was plastered into a huge grin, the one that showed off his dimples. 

“I’m going to lunch. Come with me.” 

“Um,” she hesitated. 

“Come on, it’s southern California! There are like five burrito places on this street with better guacamole than they make anywhere in Wisconsin.”  

She smiled a little. She couldn’t help it. 

“I’m from Madison, Josh, there’s a university there.”  

“So?” 

“So there’s at least one decent Mexican place in every college town in America. I think it might be the law.” 

“We’re like 30 miles from Mexico. The avocados are fresh. Are you really telling me there’s any place in Madison, Wisconsin, that can compete with that?” 

Donna giggled. 

“Come on, this is the first day in weeks I haven’t had to work through lunch! I don’t have to eat room service or takeout, I can sit in an actual real restaurant and eat actual real food. You have to come.” 

“Okay.”  

She grinned back at him.  

“I invited some of the others, too, but Sam and Toby are still locked in a room fighting to the death over some line from the speech and CJ’s been negotiating coverage of the rally all day so it looks like it’s just gonna be you and me.” 

Of course, by “others,” he meant “senior campaign staff.” He’d always included her in their meals and hangouts, and until now she’d never found it even a little strange. She wasn’t senior staff, not even close. Why did he act like she belonged? Why did she? 

The restaurant was close enough to the office that they were able to walk. After spending so much of the last few weeks in an office, a hotel room, or a car, it felt good to be in the southern California sunshine. It was warm, but not hot, with a gentle breeze. In Wisconsin there was maybe one day like this a year. Here it felt like it could be every day. But then again, the people in Wisconsin appreciated it more. 

Josh had a fast pace but she had no trouble keeping up. She was used to following him around the office—he had a bad habit of tossing directions at her while moving from one meeting to the next—but now that she thought about it keeping up with him had never been a problem. 

Josh was nice. He held the door open for her and insisted on buying an appetizer to share. She argued with him about it, because that was what she’d been raised to do, but only half-heartedly because she hadn’t been on payroll very long and her salary wasn’t that high. It reminded her a little of her early dates with him and she wondered, briefly, what it would be like to go on a date with someone like Josh. He had a girlfriend who worked for the campaign, but she wasn’t in the office much so Donna didn’t really know her, certainly not well enough to ask. She had dark hair and a loud voice and good taste in clothes, and she must have been smart to have the job that she did. 

“So we might be getting Wiley’s endorsement.” 

She had to swallow a bite of her unreasonably large burrito before she could answer. 

“That’s good.” 

“Good? It’s great! We’re getting most of Wiley’s supporters already, but an endorsement would really seal the deal. I just hope he’s not holding a grudge. Or, more accurately, he’s holding a bigger grudge against Hoynes than us.” 

That reminded her of something from before. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, everyone’s been saying we’ve got Wiley’s money and that’s why, among other things, the offices are so much nicer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, I mean, how does that work? What do they mean by Wiley’s money? Isn’t it our money now?” 

“Ah.” 

She waited while Josh ate some food and frowned at his plate. 

“Well, there’s only so much money in the democratic party, right?” 

That made sense. 

“Right.” 

“And there’s only a certain amount of money being donated to democratic candidates. All that money is divided among all the candidates, or at least the ones at the front of the race. Now that Wiley’s not in the race, the money that was going to him has to go somewhere.” 

She dipped a corn chip in salsa and kept listening. 

“Now, most of the people who were for Wiley were really against Hoynes. They’re backing the alternative to John Hoynes, which was Wiley, but now it’s us. So they’re giving their money to us now.” 

It all sounded so simple when he explained it. 

“And, if we’re lucky and I’m very, very good at my job, and in my experience the latter is true but there’s a bit of trouble with the former, we might be able to get Wiley to endorse us, too, which is even better.” 

A waiter appeared and refilled Josh’s water glass. 

“Thanks. Can I get some more of this guacamole too?” 

The waiter left to get the guacamole and Josh frowned in her direction. 

“What were we talking about?” 

“Wiley, money, endorsements.” 

“Right. Well, that’s pretty much it, so I guess we were done with that. How’re you doing?” 

“I’m good.” 

For a moment she considered telling him about the phone call, but found herself avoiding it. 

“I wish I had a little more free time.” 

Josh laughed.  

“Free time? What do you need more free time for?” 

“Tanning.” 

It was an easy answer, but she felt a little bad, complaining to her boss that she needed more free time when it wasn’t even true. The days were long, sure, but she didn’t mind. 

“Tanning?” 

His eyebrows were raised in what she assumed was disbelief. 

“The weather here is perfect. Even for my sensitive alabaster skin.” 

Josh shook his head. 

“See, this is the kind of thing you really should talk to CJ about.” 

CJ had been just as welcoming as Josh, but Donna still wasn’t sure she felt comfortable treating her like a friend just yet. After all, CJ was senior staff and she was incredibly not.  

***

It was almost eleven o’clock when Josh found Sam passed out on stack of scribbled on legal pads in the hotel conference room and Leo sent everyone back to their rooms for the night. He’d sent them to the hotel two hours earlier with the intention of them getting some sleep but there was always something else to do on a presidential campaign, or so Josh had explained when he was apologizing for keeping her so late. Truthfully, she didn’t mind, because it gave her a legitimate reason to avoid returning his phone call. 

She seriously considered not doing it, especially considering it was close to one AM in Wisconsin by the time she was in her room with the phone in her hand, but she’d promised to call him back and would feel guilty if she didn’t, not to mention he’d probably tell her mother who’d call to ask her why she hadn’t. If she talked to him now he’d be tired and it’d be short. If she waited until the next day and explained what had happened there was no telling how long it would go on. 

The phone rang six times without being picked up and she was beginning to hope he just wouldn’t answer when she remembered that he was a doctor and if he couldn’t be woken up by a telephone in the middle of the night there was a chance somebody could die. 

His voice, when he finally answered, sounded sleepy, and a lot less soft than it had earlier. 

“Hello?” 

“It’s me. I’m sorry I’m calling so late.” 

Except she wasn’t, not really. 

“Donna?” 

He sounded more awake and some of the softness was back. She didn’t know why but she smiled a little bit into the receiver. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry it’s so late, we just got done for the night.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you called.” 

He paused, but she didn’t know what to say, so eventually he continued. 

“What time is it there?” 

“A little after eleven.” 

“And you just got done?” 

She resented the surprise in his voice. As if he didn’t work late at the hospital all the time. 

“There’s a lot of work to be done. We have a lot of late nights. Josh has more of them than I do.” 

The following pause was long enough to make her suspect that he’d been planning to say something and thought better of it. Eventually he found something else to say.  

“So this job you have. Do you… like it?” 

No.  

“Yes.” 

She loved it. 

“This… this job. How long is it… how long will you have it?” 

_As long as Josh needs me._

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t say that. 

It didn’t matter. He'd already moved on to another question. 

“I mean, Donna… after Bartlet drops out… will you come back?” 

He couldn't have known, could he, that he’d asked the perfect question? That with four simple words he’d set off an inner turmoil the intensity of which was unfamiliar to her.

“I..” 

On one side, there was the New Donna. Confident. Competent. Capable. 

Valuable.

_No! I have a life now. I’m doing something for_ me _, for a change._  

“I…”

On the other side there was the Old Donna. Compassionate. Caring. Compliant. 

Selfless.  

_Yes! Of course! I love you. I didn’t think you’d give me another chance… I’m so relieved._

“I don’t know.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded apologetic. She wasn’t sure if he sounded sorry. “I shouldn’t have asked you that yet. I didn’t call to put you on the spot.”  

She suddenly felt very tired, and she didn’t think it was because of the hour. 

“Why _did_ you call?” 

“I just want to _talk_.” 

She sighed. 

“What do you want to talk about?” 

“I don’t know. Just… just tell me about your day.” 

That got her attention. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked to hear about her day. 

“It was sunny,” she offered. “And it hit 70 degrees today.” 

He groaned.  

“I’m so jealous.” 

She knew it only meant that Wisconsin was cold and wet, but it still made her feel good that, for once, he wanted something that she had. 

“It was a good day. The new offices have more phone lines, so they don’t get jammed so much. And we have more space now, so I’ve been able to get Josh’s office almost organized.” 

God, that sounded boring. The last few weeks had been the most exciting of her life, and here she was talking about extra phone lines. But she didn’t know how to describe it that would make it sound how it really was. Especially to him. 

“Josh bought me lunch today,” she added. “That was nice.” 

“He bought you lunch?”

She didn’t like the way his voice sounded. Suspicious. 

“It was really nice of him. He knows I don’t make very much money. Well, I mean, he would know that, he’s the one that hired me. He’s just always so sweet. Everyone here is.” 

“Donna…” 

He said it in that voice of his. That voice that meant he thought she was being unbelievably naive. 

“What?"  

She hoped she sounded more indignant than worried. 

“…Nothing,” he said after a long silence. 

She wondered if he’d been going to ask her to come back again, desperate to protect her from whatever sort of threat he perceived Josh to be. 

She was glad he hadn’t. Ever since he’d asked her the first time she hadn’t been able to get the thought out of her head. 

“How was your day?” she asked. 

He’d apologized for putting her on the spot, but he hadn’t, not really. She did have to think about the future. 

He was wrong, she knew he was, about Bartlet dropping out eventually. Ten months from now he was going to take the oath of office, with Josh and Toby and CJ and Sam and Leo standing behind him. 

But what about _her_? 

“Oh, you know,” he said dismissively. “Work. Sick people.” 

For a doctor he’d never seemed to like being around sick people very much.  

Her thoughts returned to her own situation. Josh and CJ, the senior staff, they would have jobs when all this was over. But what about her? Volunteers were disposable, useful during the campaign when it was all-hands-on-deck, but there wasn’t a place for them in the White House. And that’s all she was, really, a glorified volunteer. She only got paid because she’d practically begged Josh to hire her, and he’d been kind. What was she going to do when this election was over?  

The question so haunted her that it took her a moment to realize that he was still talking.  

“It would have been better if…”  

He trailed off, but she knew what he was going to say.  

“If what?” she pressed gently. 

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to pressure you.” 

“It would have been better if I'd been there," she finished for him. 

“Yes,” he admitted. 

Donna smiled slightly. Not so long ago, she'd been willing to give up everything for him. And she had. He'd asked, and she’d done it. Now, he wasn’t asking. 

“Yes,” she said.  

“Yes?” he sounded confused, but maybe hopeful, too. 

“Yes. When the election is over… I'll come back. We’ll…”

She started to say _we'll work it out_ but she stopped herself. She didn't need to say it. She knew they would.   

“I love you,” he said, for the second time that day, and this time she didn't panic. 

"I love you too.” 

“I missed you so much.”  

“I miss you too.” 

“Donna..." he whispered. 

“Yes?” she asked.  

“Do you have to wait?”  

***

_It's for the best_ , she thought to herself, as she hastily threw her clothes into her suitcase. She’d accumulated so many since she got here, yet she still didn’t have much. She really had come here with nothing. Unprepared. 

Not anymore. She didn’t regret this little adventure, not one bit. She’d found herself, and now she knew exactly what she wanted. 

In a year he’d be finished with his residency and she could go back to school, just like they’d always planned. Even better, she knew what she wanted to study now. Political science and government. It had always been that, hadn’t it? And he’d have a good job by then, in private practice, since he’d always said he wanted to get out of the hospital, and maybe they could afford grad school. And maybe, someday, she could do this for real. Politics. And not just campaigns. Government, too. 

After he finished his residency. After he got a job. After she graduated. She’d be ready, then. 

_It's for the best_ , she thought to herself, as she quietly carried her heavy suitcase into the empty campaign office. She'd thought about leaving without coming back here, but she had things she needed to get from her desk. And she had to say something to Josh, had to at least tell him she was leaving. And there was the matter of the plastic ID card burning a hole in her pocket.  

She had to give it back. As much as some part of her wanted to keep it, to have a memento of this place, of the person she’d been while she was here, she knew she had to give it back. It was the right thing to do. Besides, she needed to move on, not cling to the daydream of being a real part of this campaign. 

It was when she thought about that ID that she nearly second-guessed herself. She remembered asking Josh about it, a few days after he hired her. 

“ _Keep it_ ,” he'd said. _“I'll get a new one. I think we’re going to have enough money to get personalized ones for the senior staff soon anyway.”_  

She'd smiled. 

It was just after six AM. The office was empty, except for her, but she knew Josh would be there soon. He was often the first one to arrive, because some mornings Leo met with the Governor over breakfast before he came into the office. 

Donna wasn’t even sure she was supposed to have her own key, but at some point she’d come into possession of one of Josh’s and if anyone even knew about it they’d come to the agreement that it was a good idea for Josh’s assistant to have one, as frequently as he misplaced his. 

The door opened. It was Josh. He looked around, surprised to see the lights on. She thought he’d scan the office for a moment, but instead he said “Donna?” 

She’d forgotten that he’d recognize her ancient car in the parking lot. 

She didn't speak, didn’t know what to say, and then he found her, standing beside her desk. 

His mouth started to form the words “What are you doing here?" but before any sound came out his eyes landed on the suitcase at her feet. 

Their eyes met. She didn’t have to explain what she was doing. He knew.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“Your extra key's on the desk,” she said, holding it up so he could see before leaving it on the bare wooden surface. He nodded. The ID she would hand to him personally. A thank you, even if she didn’t say it. 

She lifted her suitcase, and for the first time since he’d discovered her he felt moved to speak.  

“Do you need help getting that to your car?” 

“I'm fine,” she said. 

He was still near the door, so she could not leave without walking toward him. 

When she was nearly past him, she heard her name. 

“Donna.” 

It was soft, but not a whisper, not exactly. 

She turned to look at him. He swallowed. It was early. 

“When I said this can’t be a place to… find yourself and start over, and you asked why?” 

She met his gaze. 

“Yeah?”

“This is why.”

Then just as quickly the moment was over, he moved aside and she pushed open the door and she left without looking back. 

She was ten miles down the highway when she realized the ID tag was still in her pocket. 

***

After two hours of driving she realized she was starving. Maybe leaving without breakfast hadn't been the best idea. She saw a sign advertising a service plaza in two exits. Perfect. 

She pulled off the highway and into the parking lot. She bought a greasy breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee from the first fast food restaurant she saw. She didn't even notice the name. 

She ate quickly, finishing in less than ten minutes, and went to the bathroom, washing her face as well as her hands to remove the leftover grease of her meal. 

Her gas tank was mostly full but she refilled it anyway, then went inside and bought another cup of coffee to go. 

The payphone caught her eye on the way out and she briefly entertained the notion of calling him, before remembering that he’d have just started work and wouldn’t want to be interrupted. She’d stop again around lunch, she could call him then. 

***

She didn’t end up calling him at lunch. She didn’t even eat lunch, opting instead for two candy bars from a vending machine and another coffee to go. She was trying to keep her stops quick, mostly just gas and bathroom breaks. She had a long drive ahead of her. 

After a few hours of driving in silence she tried the radio, landing on a staticky country western station. 

She did eat dinner, but she didn’t call him then either. She was itching to get back on the road, to close the distance between them. She was ready to be home. 

***

It was late when she finally called him. She pulled into a motel sometime after midnight, no longer trusting herself to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t gotten all that much sleep the night before and she’d been driving all day. 

She stretched her legs, stiff from a whole day of driving, then went to the front desk to check in. The clerk took her name and told her she could pay at check out. 

“Um, actually,” she asked timidly, “Is there any way I could pay in advance? I want to get out as quickly as possible in the morning…” 

The clerk grunted an affirmation and gave her a price. She gave him the money and he shoved the key across the desk. 

“Thank you,” she smiled through her exhaustion.  

The clerk didn’t answer. 

Donna deposited her suitcase in her room, then went outside in search of a payphone. She found one just outside the lobby. 

She deposited her change and punched in his home number, hoping he’d still be awake. It took a few rings, but he answered.  

“Hello?” 

“Hey.” She broke into a smile just hearing his voice. “It’s me.” 

“Donna?”  

She rolled her eyes. Ordinarily, in a situation like this, she’d make a joke, but she was tired. 

“Yes, it’s Donna.” 

“Where _are_ you?” 

“Somewhere in Wyoming.” She frowned. Had she crossed the state line before she stopped? “Or maybe Nebraska.” 

“That’s still so far away!” he sounded surprised. 

“It’s a 30 hour drive! I can’t do it all in one day. That’s not physically possible.” 

“Why didn’t you just fly back? Then you would be here already,” he complained. 

“Plane tickets are expensive,” she reminded him gently. “Besides, I couldn’t just leave my car out there.” 

He didn’t say anything. She knew he wanted to. He’d never liked her old blue car, frequently calling a pile of junk, but he could only complain so much after all the rides she’d given him when his was in the shop, which seemed to be more often than a car that age should be.  

“Well, I should go. I need to get some sleep so I can back on the road.” 

“Okay,” he said. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she reminded him. Then she hung up.  

She made her way back to her room, still trying to work the stiffness out of her muscles. She cast a longing glance toward the shower, but couldn’t muster up the energy. She fell onto her bed instead, exhausted, taking a moment to set the tiny alarm clock on the bedside table before she allowed herself to turn out the light and lie down. 

Within minutes she was asleep, still fully clothed.  

***

By the time she woke up in the morning her alarm had been going off for fifteen minutes. Cursing to herself quietly, she threw a longing glance toward the shower before deciding she didn’t have time. 

She stripped off the clothes from the night before and fumbled in her suitcase for clean ones. She applied a liberal amount of deodorant before tugging her t-shirt on over her unfixed hair. She allowed herself five minutes to wash her face and brush her teeth, then she shoved the rest of her things into her suitcase and hurried back to her car, stopping only to deposit the key on the front desk, in the care of the same apathetic clerk who’d given it to her. 

Her day wasn’t too different from her last one, mile after mile of midwestern highway, staticky radio stations that she had to change every once in a while when she drove out of range, quick stops at grimy service plazas that were few and far between. 

When she pulled into Madison it was already dark outside but it wasn’t late. 

***

She wasn’t sure exactly what time it was when she arrived at his—their—house. She’d crossed two timezones without bothering to adjust the clock in her car. 

Donna parked her tiny blue car beside his shiny black one in the driveway. He’d always been obsessive about keeping it clean. 

She’d left without a key, back in February, so she had to knock. 

She knocked twice then waited on the tiny porch, anxiously listening for his footsteps. She shivered a little in the mid-march Wisconsin air. There were still patches of snow on the ground, here and there. 

The house wasn’t big, but it was a house, which was important to him.As she waited, she remembered how excited she’d been to move into it with him, living in a house without her parents for the first time. She’d felt so grown-up. 

Getting lost in her thoughts had distracted her from listening for him, so when the door swung open it surprised her. She looked up at the sound to see him standing in the doorway, grinning, his eyes full of affection. 

He picked up her suitcase, which was at her feet, and pulled it into the house. She stepped inside after him. He turned back to face her, still grinning. 

They looked at each other for a moment, neither quite sure what to say, until he pulled her into a kiss. 

The kiss was short but deep. He followed it up with a second one, then his mouth began to move lower as she felt his grip tighten around certain parts of her body.  

Donna pulled back. 

“Stop.” 

He looked slightly wounded. 

“I haven’t seen you in over a month,” he complained. 

She laughed. 

“I haven’t showered in two days. I smell like fast food and motel room and the inside of my car. At least let me take a shower first.” 

She smiled as she walked past him toward the familiar little bathroom and he grabbed her hand for just a second before releasing her. 

***

She spent a long time in the shower. She used his soap but her own shampoo. He hadn’t thrown it away. She leisurely scrubbed it through her long blonde hair then rinsed herself, reveling in the steamy hot water. It felt good to be clean. 

His was the only towel hanging up so she took it. He could get out a fresh one, she’d wash this one tomorrow. Her blow-dryer was still there, too, so she took the time to dry and detangle her hair. 

She went into the bedroom, still wrapped in his towel, half smelling like him because she’d used his soap, looking for something to wear. All of her clothes were either in her suitcase or at her parents’ house, where she’d dumped everything she hadn’t taken with her to New Hampshire, and she didn’t think anything in her suitcase was clean. She took a pair of his sweatpants and a long-sleeve t-shirt, rolling them to make them fit better. 

She stepped back into the kitchen to find him setting the table. He turned around when he heard her come in. His eyes swept up and down her body appreciatively.

“Lookin’ good.” 

She grinned. 

“Want some dinner?” 

She briefly recalled the lunch she’d eaten out of a vending machine. 

“Please. I’m starving.” 

He smiled. 

“I got some Mexican. I would have cooked, but I thought you’d rather eat something you’d actually enjoy.” 

Donna understood. When she’d met him he’d been eating macaroni and cheese three times a week. 

She watched him remove enchiladas from the foil takeout containers and serve them onto plates. He threw the containers away when he was done, stopping by the fridge to grab a bottle of white wine before he returned to the table. 

As he poured a glass for her, then one for himself, Donna caught a glimpse of the label. It wasn't expensive, exactly, but it was better than anything Donna or her friends had ever been able to afford in college. He always had good wine. That was one of the things that had attracted her to him, early on. 

They ate mostly in silence. Donna didn't have much time to talk between bites of food. 

“The enchiladas are from that place we used to go all the time when we first started dating,” he told her. 

He mouth was full, so she nodded.  

She knew exactly the place he was talking about. It was a popular student hangout, decent food, cheap margaritas. It had always been her favorite Mexican place in town, but now it tasted bland compared to the memory of the lunch two days before. _Josh was right_ , she thought. _Southern California can beat any place in Madison on guacamole alone_. 

She pushed thoughts of Josh and the campaign aside, surprised they’d come to her at all. She consciously turned her attention back to the man sitting across from her. 

She smiled at him across the table. He smiled back. 

They finished eating quickly, but lingered long enough to finish the bottle of wine. He put the dishes in the dishwasher, then approached her. He grabbed both her hands in his, kissed her, then turned around and gently led her to the bedroom.  

The sex was probably the best they’d had, which admittedly wasn’t saying much. He fell asleep immediately after, and Donna soon followed suit. Most nights she didn’t, but after two straight days of driving on minimal sleep she was worn out. 

As she drifted off, she felt him throw one sleeping arm over her, and she smiled. 

***

Donna woke up around eight, according to the alarm clock he kept next to the bed. He was long gone, of course, having early rounds at the hospital, but his pillow was creased and the whole bed smelled like him. 

Still wearing the over-sized t-shirt she’d slept in, Donna wandered into the kitchen. The first thing she saw was the coffeepot, used but empty. Thinking a cup of coffee would be nice, she took the coffeepot to the sink to rinse it out. Sitting in the sink was his cereal bowl, cheerio dust floating in the leftover milk that pooled at the bottom. 

She opened the dishwasher but found it full, with the dishes from last night and others from before she’d arrived. With a sigh, Donna found the dishwasher detergent in the same place she’d kept it before she left—the cabinet under the sink—and turned the dishwasher on. She washed and dried the cereal bowl by hand, put it away, rinsed and refilled the coffeepot and finally switched it on.  

While the coffee brewed, she threw all the clothes from her suitcase into the laundry, along with the towel she’d borrowed from him last night. She’d showered last night but she took a quick one anyway. After the two-day drive back from California she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of feeling clean. 

When the coffee was ready she poured herself a cup and sat in the kitchen drinking it until she heard the tell-tale noise announcing the laundry was ready to be put in the dryer. She refilled the washer with the sheets from the bed. She didn’t know when he’d last washed them but, knowing him, it had been a while. She remade the bed with clean linens and waited for her clothes to be dry so she could get dressed.  

She spent the rest of the morning generally tidying up. It wasn’t that he was a total slob, but with his busy schedule there were things that just didn't get done if she wasn't around to do them. Around noon the phone rang. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, babe.” 

She smiled. It was him. 

“Hey!”

“Sorry I left without saying goodbye this morning. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I needed the sleep.” 

“I don’t have a lot of time to talk right now, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out to dinner tonight?” 

This was how he was in the beginning. Romantic, sweet. 

“I’d love to!” 

Maybe the time away had just given her a chance to miss all the good things about him. 

“Great, because I made a reservation at that little Italian place.” 

Even without him naming it, the image of the place sprang immediately to her mind. They’d had one of their first serious dates there. 

“Great!” 

“The reservation’s at six, right after I get off work. Can you meet me there?” 

“Of course,” she answered. 

“See you then,” he said. “Love you.” 

“Love you,” Donna replied, but when she heard the dial tone she wasn’t sure if she’d gotten the words in before he hung up. 

***

After the phone call Donna drove to her parents’ house to reclaim the rest of her belongings. Her father wasn’t home, but her mother was thrilled that she was back. She told her briefly about her plans, to go back to school in a couple years and get her degree in political science, and her mom beamed.  

When she got back to the house she put her clothes away, looking as she went for something she could wear to dinner tonight. She wanted to look nice for him, to celebrate the revived relationship, but nothing caught her eye. Thinking of her last paycheck from the Bartlet for America campaign, Donna decided she could afford a little shopping trip. And if she didn’t find anything in her pice-range she could always return the dress the next day. 

***

At six PM exactly she arrived in restaurant's lobby. The hostess pointed her to the table. He was already there. He stood up to kiss her, then waited for her to sit before he sat back down. 

“I already ordered wine and appetizers,” he said. “How was your day?” 

“It was good!” she smiled. “I got the rest of my stuff from my parents’ house.” 

“Did you see them?”

“I saw my mom. She’s glad I’m back.”  

He smiled. 

“So am I.” 

The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine and a plate of calamari. Donna smiled politely as he filled both glasses with the pale liquid. He liked calamari, she didn’t, but at least he’d ordered white wine. After telling them he’d be back to take their order in a few minutes, the waiter left. 

He raised a glass. 

“To us,” he said.  

She tapped her glass against his. 

“To us.”  

***

Over the next few weeks they began to fall back into the rhythm they’d had before as Donna settled back in. She kept the house clean, made dinner and sometimes breakfast, and filled out job applications. They went out at least once a week, either for dinner or just for drinks, sometimes by themselves, sometimes with groups of his friends. Donna didn’t particularly like most of his friends, but she was a good sport and a good girlfriend. 

She’d been home about three weeks when the two cross-country trips finally caught up with her little blue car and the check engine light blinked on while she was driving home from the grocery store. She called her usual garage—she knew the mechanic there and he gave her a discount—and found out they were booked into the next week. He assured her that she should be okay to drive until she could get it in, but suggest she try to use the car as little as possible. 

The car held out for eight days. The ninth day was the day of her appointment. Relieved, Donna cleared all her personal belongings and put the spare key in the glove compartment. The garage was on the other side of the city, so the fastest way to get there was to go a couple of exits down the highway. She’d done it a thousand times. 

She wondered what he was doing. He was going to be meeting some of his friends at one of their usual hangouts, disinterested in waiting with her for her car to be serviced. He had the whole day off from work after being on-call three straight nights in a row, and he’d only just woken up when she left. 

She was approaching her exit when everything suddenly seemed to go wrong. She heard a loud noise, other lights on the dashboard began lighting up, and something about the steering seemed wrong. Panicking, she steered for the side of the rode, desperately hoping she could at least get out of the way of oncoming traffic. She succeeded, but in the process plowed into the barrier. She heard the front of her car crunch against the concrete, and suddenly wished it was new enough to at least have airbags. Her head smacked against the steering wheel, not hard enough to draw blood but it hurt. She felt a pain somewhere in the vicinity of her foot, probably from jerking so hard on the break. Not knowing what else to do, she stared out her cracked windshield at the cars zipping by on the other side.  

***

Someone with a cellphone must have called the police while Donna was sitting there in a daze, because the next thing she knew an officer was tapping on her window. 

“Ma’am!” he was shouting. “Ma’am, are you alright?” 

Donna looked up, a little startled. 

“I’m okay!” she shouted. 

“Can you come out of there?” he asked. 

“Hang on!” she answered. 

She released her seatbelt. She tried the door, but found it wouldn’t open. 

“It’s stuck!” she called out to the officer.  

“The frame probably get bent in the crash. Hang on!” 

After struggling for a minute, he wrenched the door open. Shakily, Donna stood up. She cried out when she put weight on her left foot. 

The officer offered her his arm. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

“Donna. Donnatella Moss.” she stuttered slightly. 

“Do you have your license, ma’am?” 

“Yeah it’s…” she pointed at her purse, which had fallen from the passenger seat into the footwell. She felt dizzy. 

“It’s okay,” the officer told her. “We’ll get it. Why don’t you sit down?” He helped her to the open door of his police car where he let her perch on the passenger seat. She smiled gratefully. He gestured to his partner to retrieve her purse. 

“The insurance and everything is in the glove compartment,” she said. 

“Ma’am I need to ask you a few questions,” the first officer began. 

“Okay,” she said. 

“Did anybody hit you?”

“No, it was just my car. The engine… it wasn’t working right.” 

The entire day seemed to catch up with Donna and she suddenly began to cry. 

“I’m not going to get in trouble, am I? I wasn’t drinking! The check engine light was on but… I was on my way to the mechanic. I had an appointment, you can call them…” 

The officer placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“You’re not going to be cited. It was mechanical failure, and as far as we can tell you couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. I’d be more concerned about your insurance company.”  

Donna tried for a grateful smile but she was still sniffling a little. The officer handed her a tissue. 

“Looks like you have a bump on your head,” he noted.  

She nodded. 

“Steering wheel. It’s not too bad, though.” 

He pulled a penlight out his pocket and shone it in her eyes. 

“It doesn’t look like you have a concussion but you should get checked out. We’re going to take you to the hospital, okay?” 

She nodded again. She felt very small. 

“Okay.” 

***

She didn’t know how long she spent in the ER waiting room or how long they spent running routine tests, but it felt like ages. This was a different hospital, not the one he worked at. She almost wished they’d taken her to his hospital, even though he wasn’t working today, because at least that one was a little familiar.  

“Well, Miss Moss, the good news is you don’t have a concussion or any other serious injuries,” said an ER doctor with a sympathetic smile. “You’ve got a bit of a sprain in your left ankle. The nurse is going to come put a bandage on it and bring you some crutches. You should keep your weight off it for a little while. And if you want I can prescribe some pain meds.” 

“That’s okay,” Donna said. It didn’t really hurt that badly. She could manage it with ibuprofen. 

 “Tough, I like that,” he tossed her a wink. “Is there anyone we can call for you?”  

“My boyfriend,” she answered. “I need him to pick me up.” 

The doctor handed her a pen and a pad of paper. She wrote his home number quickly and handed it back. He nodded.  

“Well, we’ll call him for you, and the nurse will be right along with the bandage and discharge papers.” 

The nurse arrived fifteen minutes later. She bandaged Donna’s ankle and gave her crutches and some papers to sign. 

She left. An hour passed. Donna waited. Finally, she made her way to the nurse’s station, testing out the crutches.  

“Excuse me?” she asked. 

“Can I help you?” said one of the nurses. 

“I hope so. Um, one of the doctors, he said you were going to call my boyfriend for me? And I was just wondering if you’d called him yet because we don’t live that far away but he’s not here and…” 

The nurse picked up a piece of paper from the desk. 

“This number?” 

Donna recognized her own hand writing. 

“That’s him.” 

“We called him about an hour ago, he said he was on his way.” 

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”  

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look as she made her way back to where she’d been sitting. Another forty-five minutes went by and he came running in, face flushed with concern. 

“Donna! Thank god!” he shouted when he saw her. People turned toward the noise. A nurse shot him a dirty look. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I just sprained my ankle is all. But I think my car might be totaled.” 

He gave her a quick kiss, the taste of hour-old beer sour on his lips. She felt the bottom go out of her stomach. Maybe it wasn’t concern for her wellbeing that put that flush in his face. 

“I always told you that pile of junk would get you killed one day,” he teased.  

“Yeah,” she muttered distractedly. 

He took her purse from her and helped her outside. He escorted her across the parking lot stowing her crutches in the back seat of his shiny black car before helping her into the passenger seat. He got on the highway and headed toward home. Donna didn’t say anything, and for the first few minutes neither did he. 

She mulled it over, the best way to broach the subject, to tell him she knew what he’d done. He kept glancing over at her, sensing that something was wrong. Finally, he spoke up.  

“Donna, are you sure you’re okay? You just seem a little—”

She cut him off. 

“What took you so long?” Her voice was cold, furious. Exactly how she felt towards him right now. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. He sounded confused, but she knew him. She could tell he was calculating just how badly he’d screwed up, and if he could get away with denying it.  

“I talked to the nurse, she said she called you almost two hours ago.” 

“I couldn’t just run out the door as soon as I heard, babe. I mean, I wanted to, I almost stopped to get you flowers but I thought it would be better to go straight there… and there was traffic and…”

He glanced at her helplessly, realizing his rambling was getting him nowhere. 

“I could taste the beer on your breath.” 

The accusation hit him like a dart in a balloon. It was strangely satisfying, watching him deflate. 

“Donna... babe…”

“I can’t believe I’m even letting you drive me right now,” she muttered angrily. “I’ve already been in one car accident today.”

“I only had _one_!” he protested. 

“You stopped for a _beer_!” she shouted. 

“I was supposed to meet my friends, remember? I had to tell them I couldn’t make it.”  

“You couldn’t pick up a phone?” 

“I didn’t know the bar’s number.” 

 Donna felt like asking him if he’d ever heard of the yellow pages, but she suddenly felt too tired to bother.  

“I just stopped to tell them I couldn’t make it.” 

“And had a beer.”

"They drove the rest of the way home in silence, his desperate, hers angry.  

***

The second he pulled into the driveway Donna stormed out of the car, ignoring the crutches in the backseat. She dug through her purse for a key, but before she found it he silently came up behind her and opened the door. She went inside without bothering to acknowledge him. 

She moved through the house as quickly as she could with her injured ankle, grabbing clothing and any other possessions as soon as she saw them. 

He followed her from room to room, apologizing, begging her to calm down, to let him explain. She ignored him. 

She didn’t take the time to carefully pack anything away. She quickly filled her suitcase and the boxes she'd so recently brought her clothes back in from her parents’ and moved on to large plastic bags. When she was through, she moved all of it out to the driveway, one or two things at a time. Thought dulled by adrenaline, the ache in her ankle still slowed her down a little, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of helping. 

When she had all her things sitting in the empty space that used to belong to her car, she collapsed onto the pavement herself, sitting down hard on a bag of clothes. She heard the screen door swing open then slam shut but she refused to look at him. 

“Donna, come on. At least let me give you a ride to your parents’.”  

She hated that he knew exactly where she’d go. She hated that she didn’t have anywhere else _to_ go.   

“I’ll call a cab.” 

She limped inside, glaring at him as she passed. He just stood there dumbly on the porch. 

She found the number in the yellow pages and dialed. They told her it would be fifteen to twenty minutes. She thanked them, hung up, and limped back outside. 

After sitting angrily on the ground for a few minutes, surrounded by most of her possessions, she began to get chilled. She tried to remember which bag she'd hastily shoved her coat in, finding it on the second try. She slid into it and sat back down on top of the bag it came from, her purse in her lap. 

She wished she had a plan for the future. She had no idea what she was going to do next. Move in with her parents? Keep looking for jobs? Go back to school? 

The sun was already beginning to dip and a breeze picked up, making the April Wisconsin air even chillier than before. Shivering slightly, Donna breathed on her hands and slid them into her pockets to keep them warm. It was there that her fingers brushed up against a thin plastic rectangle. 

And suddenly, she knew what she was going to do. 

She’d tried her best to keep the job and the people that went with it off her mind since she got back but now, sitting on a chilly driveway in Madison, Wisconsin, she was overcome with a surprising realization. 

She missed Josh. 

She missed CJ and Sam and Toby and Margaret. She hadn't thought any of them were really friends with her, but maybe they were. And even if they were just being nice, there was no reason they couldn’t become her friends.  

Right on cue, as if her decision had summoned it, the taxi pulled up and stopped in the street just beyond her driveway. The driver, seeing the young woman surrounded by bags, got out. 

“Need some help?” he offered. 

She let the driver load her bags into the cab, keeping only her purse which she slung over her shoulder. He made a move in the direction of the driveway, as if intending to come help the driver load her luggage into the car, but one glare from her and he froze in place. Once everything was loaded, Donna and the driver both got into the front seat. 

“Where to, miss?” he asked.  

“The airport, but I need to make a stop first.” 

She pulled her wallet from her purse in preparation for paying him as she told him her parents’ address.  

***

The stop lasted about ten minutes. It would have been shorter, but her parents kept exclaiming over her ankle, fussing over her, and, in her mother’s case, imploring her as to why she was leaving again so soon after getting back.  

Her mother had always been fond of this particular boyfriend, for reasons Donna didn’t quite understand, but as soon as told her parents what had happened she got very quiet and Donna knew she wouldn’t have to worry about her mother helping him contact her again. 

Donna’s mother had always been loud when she got angry. There were dozens of screaming matches from her high school years to prove it. But when she was really, really furious she got quiet, and that was when you needed to be scared. 

Donna left most of her belongings back with her parents, like the last time, taking a few minutes to grab what she needed and stuff it back into her suitcase. Her mother helped her pack, this time, and her uncanny skills helped Donna fit more in the suitcase than she had before. 

The rest of her things were a mess, hanging in and out of ransacked bags and boxes where she’d had to pull out things she hadn’t packed with any reason in her hurry to get out of his house. Her mother told her not to worry about it, she’d clean it up, gave her a hug and a kiss, and offered, one more time, to let her stay with them for a little while. But Donna knew what she wanted. 

She hugged her father, promised to call her parents when she’d safely arrived, and said goodbye. She climbed back into the waiting cab and turned to the patient driver.  

“I'm ready.” 

***

The driver dropped her off at Dane County Regional Airport. She’d been here only a few times before, for childhood vacations. It loomed just as large as it had when she was six, but she wasn’t intimidate. This building, like her future, was filled with promise. 

She followed the signs to a ticket desk for American Airlines. The line was short, and soon she found herself in front of the desk. 

“Can I help you, ma’am?” the agent asked. 

“When’s the next flight to Sacramento?”  

“I can put on you a redeye.” 

“Great,” Donna said. “I’ll take it.” 

She paid with her credit card. The agent gave her a boarding pass. 

She found a payphone in the terminal and called her insurance company, giving them her parents’ phone number and address for when they knew anything about her car.  

She bought a salad, a cup of frozen yogurt, and a paperback book and settled down near her gate. She didn’t care how long she had to wait in this airport, as long as she got on a plane. 

*** 

By the time she landed in Sacramento it was almost seven in the morning, local time, but Donna had slept on the plane and she felt invigorated. She hailed a cab and gave the driver the address for the campaign office. 

It was only when she was standing in the parking lot, alone, with her suitcase in one hand, that she began to feel nervous. She had no idea if Josh would even take her back. But what else did she have to do but try? 

She pushed the door open. It was only eight in the morning, but the office was already full. People were running from one end to another, carrying files, shouting instructions across the room. No one gave her so much as a glance. 

Slowly, because her ankle still hurt, Donna walked in the direction of the desk that had been hers. Of course, that desk happened to be right next to Josh’s, so she was also walking toward him. 

When she was about two feet in front of him he looked up. 

“Thank god,” he said.

“Josh!” she heard someone shout. 

He waved his hand in the general direction of where she had once worked. “There’s a pile of stuff on the desk.”

“Josh!” the voice called again. 

Josh spun around, looking for the source of the noise. 

She dropped her suitcase in front of the desk and sat down. She picked up the first stack of papers. 

“Josh!” the call came for the third time. She was pretty sure it was Leo.  

“I’m coming!” Josh called over his shoulder.  

He turned back to Donna. He looked at her, his lips parted, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something, but then he turned and ran off in the direction of whoever had been calling him. 

Donna grinned and got back to work.  

***

A few hours later Donna had made a significant dent in the pile of stuff Josh had left for her, when the man himself appeared. 

“Hey, do you know where the polling data is?” 

“I’m sure I can find it if you give me a minute,” she answered. 

That was the thing about Josh. He didn’t make a big deal of her coming back. He didn’t ask her where she’d been or what had happened. All he asked for was his polling data. 

She sifted through three stacks of papers, finding the polling data tucked in with out-of-date notes and fliers for an event that had happened last week.  

“Here,” she handed it to him. 

“Thanks.” 

While he read the sheet, Donna stood up to carry the old paper to the trashcan. As she sat back down again, the cuff of her pants rode up slightly. 

“Whoa.” 

She looked at Josh, who at some point had stopped looking at the polling data and started looking at the now partially exposed bandage on her ankle. 

“What happened?” 

She sighed.  

That was the problem with Josh, she thought. He _noticed_ things, and he _cared_. She didn’t want to deal with him caring. He’d get outraged, he’d want to know everything. He’d make fun of him for doing what he did, and as much as she hated him for it she didn’t need to listen to her boss call him names. 

So she lied. 

“I slipped.”

“On a banana peel?”

She rolled her eyes.

“On the ice.” 

“In April?” 

She shrugged. 

“It was a late thaw.” 

Josh nodded knowingly.  

“You know what you have to do? You have to put down kitty litter.” 

Donna smiled tiredly. 

“Josh, I’m from Wisconsin. I know how to do winter.” 

“Well, obviously you don’t, because you didn’t put down the kitty litter. I’ve lived through almost thirty New England winters, I know what I'm talking about.” 

Josh seemed to be gearing up for a full-blown lecture, but he was suddenly cut off by a voice from somewhere behind him. 

“Josh, did I just hear you tell this girl that you’ve lived through thirty _New England_ winters?” 

“Connecticut is in New England, Governor,” Josh answered. 

“A Connecticut winter is _not_ a New England winter,” the voice said firmly. 

Wait, had Josh called him _Governor_? 

Josh laughed and stepped to the side to reveal a short man with a friendly smile. 

“Donnatella Moss,” he said, “I’d like you to meet the next President of the United States.” 

 

 


End file.
